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User blog:Squibstress/Because It Is Bitter, and Because It Is My Heart - Chapter 13
Title: Because It Is Bitter, and Because It Is My Heart Author: Squibstress Rating: MA Genre: Drama Warning/s: Explicit sexual situations; non-con; character death Published: 05/06/2017 Disclaimer: All characters, settings and other elements from the Harry Potter franchise belong to J. K. Rowling. Chapter Thirteen Of Quaffles and Pawns Minerva’s days went on as before; the students and her friends returned from Christmas holidays, and classes resumed. Privately everyone thought that Professor McGonagall seemed very much her old self again, which could only mean that she was still in denial about what had happened to her. Publicly they told one another how brave, how remarkable she was. She and Severus met three more times before she used the safe word. Their routine, insofar as it was one, always began with a brief note inviting her to his office. She would arrive at the appointed time, meet with Severus briefly to exchange news and other pleasantries, then they would begin the scenario. They didn’t discuss what they would do beforehand; after their frank conversation on Christmas Eve, it seemed unnecessary. She trusted him not to harm her, and he never did. He had her on the floor, her skirt around her waist and her blouse open. He was on top of her, his hands pinning her wrists to the floor above her head. He had entered her swiftly and was thrusting, not hard, but pretending and grunting with it, when an image exploded into her mind with the force of a curse. It was a fragment from a long-ago incident: Albus holding her the same way, grunting on top of her, on a different floor in a different lifetime. She felt an insistent heat moving through her body, settling in her core. The suddenness of it, and the shock, took her breath. She needed air. “Stop! Severus, please!” She was pulling at her wrists, trying to free them, then she remembered the safe word. “Quaffle!” He immediately rolled off her, releasing her wrists, and sat up. “Minerva? Are you all right? Did I hurt you?” he asked, his anxiety making his voice sharper than he intended. She lay panting, still trying to erase the memory from her mind and the unwelcome feeling from her body. “Minerva?” “I’m all right, Severus. I’m sorry,” she said, putting an arm over her eyes. He pulled her skirt down to cover her and sat watching her anxiously. When she uncovered her eyes and looked at him, he gave her his hand to help her sit up. He stood, quickly fastened his trousers, and helped her to her feet. “Are you hurt, Minerva?” “No, I just … it was a memory. I couldn’t continue. I’m sorry,” she answered him. They had agreed to be honest, and she was a woman who honoured her agreements. He turned away while she buttoned her blouse, saying, “No need to apologise, Minerva. Never.” He knew they were done for the evening. He went to the desk and poured two glasses of Firewhisky, bringing one silently to her, magically moving two side chairs to face the fireplace. They sat for a minute, sipping the Firewhisky, before Severus spoke. “Minerva, may I ask you a question?” “Yes, of course.” “Did Dumbledore ever hurt you?” She stared at him for a moment. “Gods, no, Severus. He would never. He loved me.” It felt good to say it to another person. “I’m sorry. It was an unfair question,” Severus said, averting his eyes. “Are you asking because of what just happened, because of my memory?” she asked. “It raised certain questions,” he admitted. “But it is none of my business.” “Severus, please look at me.” When he turned his eyes back to her face, she continued. “Albus and I had a complicated marriage. It couldn’t have been otherwise, I suppose. We had our rows and our disagreements, no question. But he never laid a hand on me except in love.” “I’m sorry I asked, Minerva. I had no right.” “No, you hadn’t. But I’m glad you did instead of leaping to conclusions. It’s important to me that you understand.” And it was. She couldn’t bear the idea of Severus thinking of her as Albus Dumbledore’s abused wife, meekly taking whatever he chose to mete out. “I know you resent Albus a great deal—and perhaps you’re right to—but don’t you believe for a minute that he was capable of harming me or anyone else he cared for. After Ariana, I don’t think he could have survived it.” “His sister?” Snape asked. “Yes,” she replied, feeling at once that she had said too much. “She died under mysterious circumstances, I believe,” he said. “Yes. That, more than anything else, set Albus on the path he eventually chose. But please don’t ask me anything more about it. It’s not my story to tell.” Severus nodded. “Now may I ask you a question that is none of my business?” she asked. “It seems only fair,” he answered, eyebrow raised. “Did you ever confront your father about what he did to you?” Severus took a sip of his Firewhisky, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but he did. “No. By the time I felt able to, he had left. How did you know?” “I didn’t, not with any certainty. I suspected … we suspected, but there was no proof. We hoped you might confide in Horace; as your Head of House he would have been the logical person for you to turn to, but he was, unfortunately …” “Not the kind of man to invite confidences,” Severus finished. “No. I often thought Albus should intervene, but he was adamant that without proof, without a word from you, there was nothing we could do. It was the subject of one of our biggest rows, as a matter of fact,” she said. “You fought over me?” Snape asked in surprise. “Oh, yes. More than once. I thought that if those infernal Marauders would only leave you alone, you might turn away from the path you seemed to be headed down. I hoped that your friendship with Lily Evans might change things for you if only you had some space without those boys breathing down your neck all the time.” He said nothing. “I often wonder if things would have been different had I succeeded in persuading Albus to expel Sirius after the dangerous prank he played on you about Remus. But I suppose by then it was too late,” she said wistfully. “You wanted to expel Black for what he did to me?” This was becoming an evening of surprises for Severus. “Yes. When I found out about it, I was livid, not only at Sirius but at Albus for keeping me in the dark about it and for letting him off with a few detentions. I didn’t speak to him for days, not until the Yule Ball …” She stopped, feeling the sudden flood of warmth again. Severus watched the flush rise in her cheeks, perplexed. Then he remembered the Yule Ball all those years ago, and what she had worn, and how it had made him feel. It suddenly occurred to him for the first time since that night twenty years past why she had chosen that dress and who it was for. He hadn’t known about her and Dumbledore then, wouldn’t find out until he was officially a Death Eater, when Lucius Malfoy mentioned it casually one night. At the time, it had given him another reason to hate the Great and Mighty Albus Dumbledore. It was funny how all kinds of small things—impressions, omissions, a word said or not said—could suddenly coalesce and form the substance of a life, he thought. He wondered what he should say to her. Finally, he settled on: “But you forgave him.” “Yes, I forgave him,” she affirmed. “Do you forgive him now?” he asked suddenly. “Yes.” She hadn’t realised it herself. “How?” “I love him,” she said simply. “That isn’t always enough,” said Severus. “No,” she agreed, “not always. But it is for me.” There seemed to be nothing more to say. They finished their Firewhisky, but neither made a move to leave. Suddenly, she asked, “Severus, would you fancy a game of chess?” “Chess?” “Yes, surely you remember it. It’s that game with kings and queens and pawns,” she said wryly. “Forgive me, but why do you ask now?” “I haven’t played in ages, and all I have to look forward to back in my quarters is a stack of first-year essays on the difficulties of trans-elemental Transfiguration,” she said. “That is a depressing prospect,” he agreed. “I remember you used to play with Filius,” she said. “Yes, and you with Dumbledore,” he answered. “Some of the staff used to place wagers on the outcome of your Saturday night matches.” “Did they?” she asked, amused. She only felt a little pang of guilt when she recalled that as often as not, she and Albus had simply flipped a coin to determine the outcome, too anxious to touch one another after a week parched of contact to spend time on a game. When they did play, the games could go on for hours. “Yes, and as I recall, you beat him more than half the time. I’m not sure I’m up to your level,” he said, smiling. “Well, I’ll go easy on you then, lad,” she replied. “All right. I think there’s a set here somewhere,” he said. “Albus always kept one in that drawer there,” she said, pointing to a square side table. Severus opened the drawer and pulled out a small, plain wizard chess set. He opened the board and set it on the table. The chess figures divided themselves by colour and took their places on the board, black snarling softly at white, who hissed back. He plucked two protesting pawns from the board and held them behind his back for a moment and then extended his arms towards Minerva. She placed her index finger on his left fist, and he opened his palm to reveal a white pawn. “The first move is to the lady,” he said. And they sat down to play. ← Back to Chapter 12 On to Chapter 14→ Category:Chapters of Because It Is Bitter, and Because It Is My Heart